I approach him, then sit on the other end of the couch. My voice is heavy when I say, “She has scars on the back of her shoulder.”
“From falling off a mountain bike,” Dax says, the hope in his voice pathetic. It’s clear that’s the story she gave him and her family.
“From an RPG,” I correct.
“Fuck,” he mutters angrily. “What the fuck is she thinking?”
“It’s her job. She loves it. Apparently, she’s not going to give it up, so she chose not to tell you and your family about the danger so you don’t worry.”
“But she told you,” he points out.
“Because she doesn’t care about me.” It’s a painful truth I just recently realized. She had no problem telling me about it because, in her mind, it was just bedroom talk to her. It was never meant to go further and in Willow’s mind, our relationship had such defined boundaries that whether her job worried me or not was never going to be a worry of hers.
She just didn’t care about me enough to want to keep it a secret to protect me.
It’s a heavy admission that hurt once I put it together. I was worried about her and her welfare, yet she wasn’t concerned in the least about my feelings.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Dax murmurs.
I’m so lost in my own musings that I’m momentarily not sure what he’s talking about.
“I think she cares about you,” he continues.
“Doesn’t matter.” That comes out with no amount of self-pity. I have a meeting coming up, so I rise from the couch. “Like I told you, we’re not together anymore. You’ll have to excuse me, though, because I have a meeting to attend.”
“Why did you break up?” he prompts, taking the cue and standing as well.
“Because I don’t like what your sister does for a living,” I state. “I don’t want to have to worry about her like that, so I gave her an ultimatum. She chose to walk away.”
I brace for Dax to be offended by that, but he just nods. “I’d try to get her to stop, too. I understand.”
I nod, then step toward the door to open it for him.
“But…” he says, his hand clamping down on my shoulder. “We still need to stop her.”
“We?” I ask in surprise, whirling on him. “There’s no we. Your sister and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”
Dax cocks an eyebrow. “You’re full of shit. I can hear it in your voice when you talk about her. You’re worried sick about her, so it doesn’t matter if she called it off or not—you’re still emotionally invested in her well-being. So yes… we need to do something.”
“Like what? An intervention?”
“Exactly,” Dax says, an evil smile on his face. “We’ll call her. Me, you, my parents. We’ll all gang up on her, insist she come home. My dad’s exceedingly good at guilt-tripping us. He had heart issues a few years ago, and he can even fake some heart palpations or something.”
“Do you seriously think your sister is going to come running home because you demand it?” I ask skeptically.
“Hell no. Not if we demand it. Like I said… we’re going to guilt her into giving up this ludicrously dangerous career. All of us… together… like a team.”
Studying Dax, I realize I know his sister better than he does. It’s not going to work. Willow is her own woman—no amount of cajoling, guilting, or demanding is going to do a damn thing other than cause her to dig her heels in deeper.
But… I can’t pass up the small chance it could work.
Because Dax is right. We may have called it quits, but it hadn’t done a damn thing to stop me from worrying about her, which means I still care way too much. And, if that’s the case, I need to do everything I can to ensure her safety.
Whatever that means to us as a couple…
Well, I can figure that shit out later.CHAPTER 14WillowI pace the inside of my room. My travel per diem was decent, so I splurged on a nice hotel in Kinshasa that overlooks the Congo River. Normally, I’d spend my downtime exploring on my own, but it’s not possible here. Crime is too rampant and corruption is too commonplace.
Part of my agreement with the Washington Post when they contracted me was to provide me with security and I’m safe with them while I’m shooting my assignment on the new coalition government that’s been formed. The political infrastructure is incredibly unstable right now, and I’m paired with a reporter who is interviewing various members of the Senate and National Assembly. We have one more set of interviews tomorrow before I’m headed back to the States.
The question is… where will I go?
I want to go back to Phoenix—or whatever city the Vengeance will be playing in. I’d wanted to attend all the games to support my brother and I hadn’t intended to take on any work throughout the playoffs. But damn if Dominik hadn’t sent me scurrying away with his demands that I fall into line with what he thinks I should do about my line of work. I’d taken this job purely out of spite and while the money is decent, I don’t need it. I’ve spent my career living out of hotels without a mortgage or student loans, so my savings account is quite healthy.